Arca and Phoenix

Theme: Chain

Word count: 421

5/9/o7 wends.

Arca sat with his back up against a tree, in the middle of a forest with no name. Civilization hummed just a mile away, and though he was supposed to pass through this town, he decided a little break wouldn't do any harm. His mind began to wander as it usually did when he was alone, and little random thoughts popped up in his head. On its own accord, the nymf's hand slipped inside his coat and tugged lightly on Fenrirca's chain. He blinked, looking down at his hand. He noticed a while ago that his hands would sometimes subconsciously move on their own, tugging on things or fiddling around with an object, just to keep themselves from being idle. And Fenrirca was their favorite instrument of joy.

He watched as his nimble fingers ran over each and every link in her chain, the cool, smooth feel of the specialized metal gliding over his skin. He loved the feel of his weapon, and the familiar texture of it calmed him sometimes.

Another random thought suddenly broke into his mind – this one being a memory and not just an idle musing. Phoenix sitting with him on their bed (at the point in time, her bed), and her mumbling something about being jealous. Jealous over Fenrirca and how much he seemed to love her.

But it was the dark haired priestess that he decidedly loved more. Though his double axed rope dart was truly something to cherish, Phoenix held more...appeal...than a weapon made for killing.

For example, when his fingertips dipped into the crevices of each link of Fenrirca's chain, all he would get was a slight jingle from the previous link falling out of his hold. But when he dipped his fingers into Phoenix, she would respond with at /least/ a gasp and an airy moan, with a slight buck of the hips.

He smiled to himself, his eyes darkening as he shook his head to rid himself of these immoral thoughts. It seemed he had spent too much time resting here, and now it was decided that he should go.

Placing the chain back under the flap of clothing, Arca stood, and brought his hand up to pull the brim of his hat down over his eyes. It would do no good to scare the good townspeople with his shadow hinted crimson eyes. They would surely be frightened, even though his mind was FAR from devious thoughts at this point.

Except when concerning a certain waitress. And a bed...